


you and i been strangers, haven't seen you in the longest time

by quirkdog



Category: Community (TV)
Genre: Getting Together, M/M, Reunions, troy’s mom is a character in this because i said so
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:26:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27205201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quirkdog/pseuds/quirkdog
Summary: after three and a half years at sea, troy's trip is finally over. he's grown up, realized some important things about himself, and changed a great deal. his only hope is that abed is willing to change with him.
Relationships: Troy Barnes & Abed Nadir, Troy Barnes/Abed Nadir
Comments: 43
Kudos: 89





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hello friends!
> 
> i actually posted this first chapter back in...july? august? sometime in late summer, but then deleted it shortly after in a fit of paranoia. i've decided to reupload it, though, so here it is.
> 
> i do have a fair amount of later chapters of this story written, but i'm pretty busy with schoolwork and writing an undergraduate thesis so i unfortunately can't promise any consistent update schedule.
> 
> i'd like to give a shoutout to everyone in a very special discord server who has encouraged me and made me smile, as well as a special thanks to opal, who helped me immensely with a bunch of geography-related stuff for later chapters.
> 
> the title, of course, comes from heaven knows by josh ritter.

When he docks, the first person he sees is his mom, holding a sign that says _WELCOME HOME, TROY!!!!!_ and waving frantically at him from the pier. He climbs down off of the boat and she throws down the sign, running at him and crashing into him with the kind of hug that only a mother can give.

“You’re back,” she says into his shoulder, and he can tell that she’s crying. “My baby came back.”

“Yeah, mom,” he says, reaching a hand up to run his hand through her hair. He can feel himself starting to cry, too. “I came back.”

“Oh, Troy,” she sighs, holding him at arm’s length so she can get a good look at him. “I missed you so much, you know that, and when I saw about the pirates on the news I was so _worried,_ I swear I didn’t eat or sleep for two weeks until the Coast Guard called me to tell me that you were okay—” She must see Troy’s face darken when she mentions the pirates, because she quickly changes the subject. “Anyway, I’m just glad you’re safe. I wish you had called more often, though, or at least written, I know that you were busy and that cell service on the ocean isn’t very good but that’s no reason for you not to talk to your mother.” She’s rambling like she always does when she’s worked up about something, but it’s been so long since he’s seen her that it doesn’t even bother him, he’s comforted by the familiarity of it. He puts a hand gently on her shoulder.

“Mama,” he says. “I’m home now.”

That makes her cry even harder, and she pulls him in for another hug. He holds onto her tightly, letting the feeling of being on dry land and being with his mom again and knowing that his trip is finally, _finally_ finished wash over him. He still can’t believe it—he can’t believe that he made it, can’t believe that it’s done, can’t believe that he did it in the first place. None of it feels quite real, but now that he’s back he’ll have time to let it all sink in. He feels like he could stand here hugging his mom for hours, but he knows that he needs to go back to the boat to grab all his stuff. He tells her as much, and she steps back and nods, wiping at her eyes. Troy mirrors the gesture and heads back onto the Childish Tycoon, climbing down to the small room that served as his quarters for the duration of the trip.

He grabs his suitcases and gives the room a final onceover, and it feels kind of weird, like he’s saying goodbye to the only home he’s known for the past three and a half years—although, maybe _home_ isn’t the right word for it; even though he’d lived on the boat for several years he had always known it was temporary, he’d never really felt like he belonged there like he had in Colorado, like he had at Greendale.

He gets back off the boat to find LeVar standing a little ways away with his wife and kids, and he puts down his suitcases and takes his mom’s arm to lead her over and introduce the two of them.

“Mom,” he says. “This is LeVar.” Troy hadn’t been allowed to watch much TV growing up, but his parents had let him watch _Reading Rainbow_ every week, and they had also sat him down to watch _Roots_ when they decided he was old enough, so he knows that his mom knows who LeVar Burton is.

“Mrs. Barnes,” he says, putting out a hand for her to shake. She pulls him in for a hug instead, though, and Troy can see the surprise on his face as he awkwardly hugs her back.

“Thank you for keeping my son safe,” she whispers. She steps back and wipes at her eyes again.

“My pleasure,” Levar replies, clapping Troy on the shoulder. “You’ve raised a fine young man here.” Turning to address Troy, he adds, “Don’t forget what we talked about, okay?”

Troy salutes him, half-jokingly. “Yes, sir.” LeVar smiles at that, waving to both of them before heading off down the pier with his family. Troy’s mom whirls on him with a scrutinizing look.

“What was that about? Don’t forget what?” She asks.

 _Classic Mom,_ Troy thinks, smiling and shaking his head. “Nothing,” he says, watching LeVar’s retreating form. “LeVar just...helped me realize some stuff.”

“Okay,” she says, but she doesn’t sound convinced. He can tell that she’s going to ask him about it later, which is fine. He was going to tell her about it anyway. Well, some of it, at least.

Troy’s mom is renting an Airbnb for the weekend, so they hail a cab to the apartment where she’s staying. Once they’re there, Troy brings his stuff to his bedroom (Troy has his own bedroom, because his mom is the _best_ ), and before he even thinks about starting to unpack, he takes out his phone to call Annie. He’d promised her that he would call her as soon as he docked, but with everything going on he’s forgotten until now. He doesn’t think she’ll blame him, though. She picks up on the second ring.

“Troy?”

“Hey, Annie.”

He can hear her let out a little squeal, and he can’t help but smile at how familiar it is. “I can’t believe you’re finally back! Did everything go okay?”

“Yeah,” Troy says. “My mom and I are at the apartment where we’re staying for the weekend, no problems. Sorry I didn’t call sooner, it’s been kind of a whirlwind since I docked.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she says. “Wait. Can we make this a FaceTime call? I just...really want to see you.”

“Sure,” he replies, and he turns the call into a video chat. Annie’s face appears on the screen, and it’s a little grainy, and she looks a little older, but it’s still Annie, _his_ Annie, and a feeling of comfort settles in his stomach, like maybe things haven’t changed all that much since he’s been gone. She lets out a startled gasp when she sees him.

“You grew a beard!” she says, surprised, and Troy laughs.

“Yeah,” he says, running a hand through it absentmindedly. “Turns out shaving on a moving boat is actually pretty hard.”

“It suits you.” She smiles bashfully, the way she always used to, then sighs a little sadly. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be there to see you in person. Everything at work is just really crazy right now.”

“I get it,” Troy says. “I’m just glad that I get to talk to you at all. And I’m sure we’ll get to see each other soon.” She perks up at that.

“Yeah, definitely! You’re always welcome to stay at my place if you come to visit, or I could fly out to see you and—” She stops abruptly, her eyes going wide like she said something she shouldn’t have. “I mean, are you and Abed… Sorry, I just sort of assumed that you guys would, um—”

“Actually,” Troy cuts her off, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly, “I’m not sure. I haven’t, um, asked him yet.”

“Troy,” Annie says, and he can’t help but feel like he’s being scolded. “Have you even talked to him yet?”

“I texted him to let him know I was docking today. He’s at work, I was gonna visit him tomorrow.” That’s true. He had been disappointed when Abed told him he wouldn’t be able to come greet him when he got off the boat, but he reminded himself that this job is important to Abed, and that he isn’t in a high enough position that he can just take time off whenever he feels like it.

“Okay,” Annie says, and she still sounds a little sad. “Well, tell me how it goes.”

“I will,” he responds.

Someone off camera says something to Annie that Troy doesn’t catch, and she nods at them. “Well,” she sighs, “I have to go. It’s really good to see you again, Troy. I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Me too,” he says. “I love you, Annie.”

“Aw, I love you too. I’ll talk to you later, okay? Bye!”

She hangs up the call, and Troy flops down on the bed. He realizes for the first time how exhausted he is, and he doesn’t even have time to think about turning off the light before he’s asleep.

He wakes up to five missed calls and about fifty texts from Britta, who he belatedly realizes he had also promised to call once he docked.

>>have u docked yet?????

>>its 330 come on

>>hello????????

>>annie says u called her???

>>but u didnt call me?????????

>>wow

>>i thot we were friends :(

>>jk

>>helloooooo

>>:(((((

>>troyyyyyyyyy

They go on like that for quite a while, and Troy rolls his eyes fondly. He doesn’t remember her being this clingy back when they were dating (that probably should have been a sign of something at the time, but he’s not going to get into that right now). He yawns as he types out a reply.

>>hey, sorry. i docked on time and everything, i’m at the airbnb w/ my mom now. i was gonna call u after annie but i passed out, i’m kinda wiped. i can call now if ur free?

It’s only a couple seconds before his phone starts to buzz, and he smiles and answers the call.

“Hey.”

“Troy!” Britta says, and it sounds like she’s whispering. “Sorry, Jeff fell asleep on the couch again so I have to be quiet. Give me a minute.” He hears some shuffling on the other end of the line and then what sounds like a door closing, and when Britta talks again it’s at a more normal volume. “So, how was your arrival? Any problems?”

“Nope,” Troy says, and he still can’t stop smiling—he doesn’t think he’s smiled this much since before he got on that boat over three years ago (his trip wasn’t _bad,_ and he’s glad he took it, but it still feels really, really good to know that it’s over, and to know that he can talk to his friends whenever he wants, that he doesn’t have to figure out time zones and cell reception and a million other variables). “My mom was there when I docked, just like she said she’d be. It’s really nice to be on dry land again.”

“I bet,” Britta replies. “I’m so glad you’re back safe.” Then, after a beat, “Are you _okay,_ though? I mean, after everything with the pirates, it’s totally normal to be—”

“ _Britta,_ ” Troy interrupts, because he really doesn’t want to have this conversation right now. “I appreciate it. Really. And to be honest, no, I’m probably not okay, and I probably do need to talk to someone about it. But I _just_ got back, and I’m exhausted, and I’m really not in the mood to be therapized. Okay?”

“Oh. Yeah, of course. Sorry. Leave it to me to Britta welcoming you home.” She says it jokingly, but Troy knows the real hurt that’s lying underneath when she says things like that. He feels bad, like maybe he was too blunt with her. She was just trying to help, after all.

“Hey,” he says, “you didn’t Britta anything. You’re the best, remember? And there’s no one I’d rather be talking to right now.” He does still want to keep this conversation away from himself and his feelings right now, though, so he switches topics. “How’s everything in Colorado?”

He can practically hear Britta perk up on the other end of the line, and he counts that as a win. “Pretty much the same. Studying for a masters takes a lot of work, but I can still tend bar in the evenings, so I can still make rent. Greendale is...well, Greendale. You know how it is. Jeff’s teaching three classes this semester _and_ he’s been studying for the LSAT, so he’s been pulling a lot of late nights lately. Oh, and don’t tell him I told you this, but there’s definitely something going on between him and Craig. I don’t know what it is, and I'm not even sure if _he_ knows it yet, but there totally is. Not that there’s anything wrong with it, obviously. I mean, you know I’m an ally, and I think it would be really brave of Jeff to—”

She goes on like that, and Troy tunes her out for a bit while he tries to figure out who “Craig” is. He realizes that they’re talking about the dean, and that means that Britta and Jeff are on a first name basis with him now, which is weird to think about and makes him feel a little bit out of the loop. He realizes that he hasn’t paid any attention to what Britta’s been saying for the past several seconds, and he tunes back in just in time to hear the tail end of her sentence.

“—to Abed yet?”

“Sorry, what?” He asks, and he’s got a pretty good idea of what the rest of the sentence was, because it seems like it’s the one thing everyone wants to know right now, but he wants to make sure.

“Have you talked to Abed yet?”

He understands why people keeps asking him, he does—he and Abed are best friends (well, were best friends; he’s not totally sure where they stand at this point, but he doesn’t want to think about that right now), and Abed is the person he’s been looking forward to seeing more than anyone else—but he’s getting a little tired of repeating himself.

“Sort of. I told him that I was docking today, but he couldn’t get time off work. I was gonna visit him tomorrow.”

“Oh,” Britta says, and she sounds surprised. “I guess I just assumed that he would be there to see you dock.”

Honestly, Troy had sort of been assuming that too. He doesn’t want to admit that to Britta for some reason, though. It feels too personal.

“Yeah, well,” he sighs. “He works in Hollywood now. Crazy hours and everything.” It had kind of sounded like an excuse when Abed had told him, and it sounds more like an excuse every time Troy repeats it. If Britta notices, though, she doesn’t say anything, and Troy is grateful.

“Okay,” she says. “Well, tell him hi from me when you see him tomorrow.”

“I will,” Troy replies. “Tell Jeff I said hi, and that I’m sorry we couldn’t talk today. I totally get it though, I know he’s super busy and everything. I’ll talk to you soon, okay?”

They say their goodbyes, and Troy lays back down on the bed. He’s okay with not talking to Jeff right now. He’s had an extremely long day, and all he really wants to do right now is take a long shower and then get something to eat. He’s talked to everyone that he really wanted to (well, almost everyone)—he cares deeply about everyone in the study group, but he’s always felt the closest to Annie, Britta, and Abed.

Abed.

He’s been avoiding thinking about Abed all day, but now that he has nothing else to distract him he finds that he can’t think about anything else. They’ve been in pretty regular contact since Troy left (apart from when he was being held hostage by pirates in the Gulf of Mexico, but that only ended up lasting a few weeks when all was said and done), but over the years he’s felt Abed pulling away from him—he responds to fewer of Troy’s texts, he has less time for phone calls, and when they do get to talk on the phone their conversations are shorter, and Troy feels like he does most of the talking. He knows that Abed’s been getting busier with work and he’s probably just being paranoid, but he can’t help but feel like Abed doesn’t want to see him as much as he wants to see Abed, and that thought terrifies him. There’s nothing he can do about it right now, though, and he’s going to see him tomorrow, so hopefully they can have a conversation and work out whatever is going on between them. Troy has some things he needs to tell Abed anyway, some things he feels he owes it to Abed to explain. He’d promised LeVar he would, after all, and he’s not going to not keep a promise to Geordi La Forge.

Taking a shower helps to take his mind off it a little (it’s his first real shower in way, _way_ too long, and he’s pretty sure it’s the best shower of his life), and by the time he comes out of the bathroom he’s feeling significantly more like a real person. His mom is sitting in the living room reading a book, and she looks up when she hears the door open.

“Hey, baby,” she says, looking him over with some surprise. “Oh, I figured you’d want to shave.”

Troy hums softly, rubbing his chin. “Actually, I think I’m gonna keep the beard for now. Try it out for a while.”

“Such a handsome young man,” she says softly. “You look so much like your father.” She smiles at him sadly, and he crosses the room to give her a hug. He knows that the divorce is still a sore spot for her, that she doesn’t like thinking about Troy’s dad.

“Hey,” he says, trying to redirect, “do you want to go get something to eat?” She cups his cheek and nods gently, and the two head out to find something for dinner.

They end up at a Mexican restaurant, and Troy is mostly quiet throughout the meal, partially because it’s the first real meal he’s eaten since he got off the boat and he’s _really_ hungry, and partially because Mexican restaurants make him think of Señor Kevin’s and managers who hate _Die Hard_ and Abed. Everything seems to make him think of Abed, it has ever since he left. In every country he visited, there would be reminders—locations where Abed’s favorite movies were shot, street vendors selling falafel, lanky men with black hair and brown skin he’d see out of the corner of his eye and think for just a second were Abed following him, coming to find him, to tell him that he couldn’t wait for him to come back, that he wanted to explore the world along with him, but then the moment would pass and Troy would be standing alone in yet another foreign city with crowds of strangers bustling around him.

“Troy,” his mom says, concern creeping into her voice, and he realizes that he must have zoned out. She puts her hand on top of his on the table. “Are you okay, honey?”

“Yeah,” he replies, shaking his head to try to pull himself back to reality. “Sorry, I’m just...tired.” It’s not a lie, but it’s not the whole truth, either. He feels bad not being honest with his mom, but he doesn’t really have the energy to get into everything with her right now. He’s not even totally sure what “everything” entails at this point.

She squeezes his hand gently. “It has been a long day, huh? Hey, how about we skip dessert and head back? I know you probably want to get to bed.” Troy nods, grateful that she isn’t pushing for an explanation. His mom picks up the check, because Troy hasn’t talked to Pierce’s lawyers yet and doesn’t actually have very much money on him, and he promises to pay her back later. She waves him off, tells him that he doesn’t have to do that, but he insists, he’s going to make sure that she understands just how much he appreciates everything she’s done for him. And he’ll be able to do that soon, because _he is going to be a millionaire_.

By the time they get back to the apartment, it hits Troy again just how exhausted he is, and he’s too distracted by the task of changing from his jeans into a pair of sweatpants and getting into bed to even think about worrying about how things will go with Abed tomorrow.

He’s asleep before his head hits the pillow.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> troy sees abed for the first time since leaving greendale.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> apologies for the delay in updating!! this semester has been kicking my ass slightly, but the end is thankfully in sight.
> 
> a huge thank you to cherie for reading my unedited ramblings and supporting me/believing in me...i love you so so much. mwah
> 
> abed is in this chapter guys, i promise.

Troy’s alarm goes off at 9, and he reluctantly rolls out of bed to brush his teeth and change. He spends almost twenty minutes trying to choose an outfit—he doesn’t know why he feels the need to impress Abed all of a sudden, but he feels like it’s important, like _I know you’ve been doing amazing things and becoming successful, look at me, I’m doing good too, I can keep up with you_. He finally decides on a pair of dark jeans and a floral patterned shirt he’d picked up in Brazil, and he checks his watch to see that it’s already 9:30. He promised Abed he’d meet him at 10, so he says a quick goodbye to his mom and heads down to the sidewalk.

He calls an Uber to take him to Abed’s apartment—not _Troy and Abed’s_ apartment or even _Troy and Abed and Annie’s_ apartment, he reminds himself, just _Abed’s_ apartment, because Abed has moved on from Greendale and the study group and has his own life and a job in Hollywood. Troy’s really, amazingly, indescribably proud of him, but he’s also a little bit sad that he had to miss this, that he had to be sailing across the world while Abed was making a name for himself.

A small part of him is worried that maybe Abed was doing all of these amazing things _because_ of Troy’s absence rather than in spite of it, that maybe he’d been holding Abed back all the time that they were together. He tries not to dwell on it, though, he just hopes that Abed will be half as excited to see Troy as Troy is to see him.

The car pulls up to the apartment building and Troy gets out, walking up to press on the intercom and wait to be buzzed up. He doesn’t think he’s ever been this scared before in his life—not even when he and LeVar had been kidnapped by pirates, which at the time he had thought was the most terrifying thing that could possibly happen to someone. It's nothing compared to how he’s feeling now, though. After several seconds, the door automatically unlocks, and he enters the building and heads up the stairs to the third floor (Abed lives on the third floor, like they had back in Colorado, and Troy feels like that means something). He finds the door to apartment 3B, takes a deep breath, and knocks.

The door opens almost immediately, and Abed is standing there, and Troy has been waiting desperately for this moment for the past four years but he still feels vastly unprepared. His hair is a little bit longer, curling around his ears and at the nape of his neck, and the way it’s styled is slightly different but still familiar, and he’s wearing a graphic tee but he’s got a blazer over it instead of his usual sweatshirt or cardigan, and it doesn’t _quite_ suit him, he still has a little bit of that air of a child playing dress up in their parent’s clothes that Troy had always seen when he tried to dress more formally, and it’s obvious that he’s changed but everything about him is still so distinctly _Abed_ that Troy doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

He realizes that it’s been several seconds and neither of them has said anything yet, they’re both just staring at each other. Troy doesn’t really know what he’s expecting, but he’s expecting _something_ —a hug, their handshake, _anything,_ but Abed just keeps staring at him, looking him up and down and standing completely still. After several more of the longest seconds of Troy’s life, he finally opens his mouth.

“You grew a beard.”

“Oh,” Troy says, laughing self consciously and automatically moving a hand up to touch it. “Yeah.” He knows that Abed doesn’t really like change, and he wishes he’d thought of that before he came so he could have shaved it off. He doesn’t want to make him uncomfortable.

Abed nods once, keeping his face carefully neutral. “It looks good.” He steps out into the hallway and closes the door behind him, locking it and pocketing his keys. “Are you ready?”

“Um,” Troy says, because he feels like he’s missing something here. “Ready for what?”

“I thought we could go out somewhere to talk. I figured you’d be more comfortable somewhere neutral than in my apartment.” Troy’s touched that Abed would consider his feelings like that, but he’s still a little put off by how detached he’s acting. Maybe it’s a little narcissistic, but he had been expecting Abed to at least show _some_ emotion after not seeing him for four years. So far, though, he hasn’t so much as cracked a smile.

“Oh, uh, sure,” he says, because he’s not sure what else to do. “Yeah, whatever you want to do.” Then, after a beat, because if he doesn’t mention it now he’s afraid he’ll chicken out later, “I, um. Do have some stuff that I wanted to talk to you about. No rush, just, you know. Eventually.”

“Okay,” Abed replies blankly, and leads him down the hallway and back down the stairs. Neither of them says anything, and Troy wonders why it feels like there’s still an ocean between them. As they enter the lobby of the apartment building, he sees that there’s a woman over by the row of mailboxes on the wall. He doesn’t pay much attention to her and goes to keep heading for the door, but Abed stops.

“Hey Aisha,” he calls. The woman looks up, startled. “I already got the mail. It’s on the counter in the kitchen. You have a letter from someone named Dave.”

The woman rolls her eyes and mutters something about _nephew_ and _Boy Scouts_ and _probably asking for money again,_ and Troy realizes that she must be Abed’s...roommate? He remembers that Abed had mentioned during one of their phone calls that he was living with someone, but he hadn’t given very many details beyond that.

Abed seems to remember suddenly that Troy is also there, because he clears his throat and gestures between the two of them.

“Troy,” he says, “This is Aisha.”

The girl, Aisha, smiles and extends her hand to Troy. _She’s_ really _pretty,_ Troy thinks as he shakes it, and for some reason it makes him kind of uneasy. He knows that he has no reason to feel that way, that he should be happy that Abed’s found someone like her to live with. That he’s doing so well for himself. “It’s nice to meet you, Troy,” she says, and Troy forces himself to smile back at her.

“You too.”

“Oh,” she says, turning back to Abed, “I think I left the skillet on the stove after I made my eggs this morning.”

“Already took care of it. I left it in the sink with some soap and water to soak,” Abed replies, and she grins at him.

“You’re the _best_.” She stands up on her toes to give him a quick kiss on the cheek before heading for the stairs, which is _not_ something Troy was expecting to happen. Abed doesn’t say anything about it, though, he just starts walking toward the door again, so Troy follows his lead, feeling even more uneasy than before.

They leave the building, and Abed suggests they go to a small café down the street from his apartment. Troy agrees, and Abed leads the way. Neither of them says a word as they walk, and it’s an uncomfortable silence—not like back at Greendale, when they could sit together for what felt like hours, quietly enjoying each other’s company. This is different, Troy feels like there’s a wall between them, like he’s finally here with Abed but it doesn’t even matter, he might as well still be out at sea. As they walk, he keeps replaying Abed’s interaction with Aisha in his mind.

Abed has a _girlfriend?_

It’s not exactly news to Troy, he knows that Abed has had girlfriends before—he’d heard about Rachel back when Abed was still at Greendale (back at the beginning of his trip, when Abed was still willing to _talk_ to him), but that had felt...different. He’d never actually met her, so it was like she existed only in concept. It’s a whole other situation to actually _see_ it like that, and it’s honestly not something he was prepared for. 

This just confirms what Troy has always known—for all of Abed’s worrying about being abandoned, being replaced, it had always been Troy who was the sidekick, who was superfluous. He had always been the Reggie to Abed’s Inspector, and when he hadn’t been able to stay with him Abed had moved on. He had never needed Troy, not like Troy needed him. It stings, but Troy hopes that maybe knowing for sure will give him some sort of closure, will help him move on too.

He doubts it, though. He had always pictured them living together after college, growing old together, and he had never stopped to consider the possibility that they wouldn’t. Now that that possibility seems like a reality, he has no idea what to do. He doesn’t know what he wants to do with his life, where he wants to live (he does know, he knows exactly, but that’s not an option anymore). It’s funny, he thinks, he'll have enough money to do whatever he wants, but the one thing that he actually does want to do, that he’s always wanted to do, he can’t do anymore. He had always taken it for granted that he could just sail around the world and that Abed would wait for him and that everything would be exactly the same when he got back, but he realizes now how selfish that was, how stupid he had been.

They arrive at the café, and Abed leads them to a small table by a street-facing window. They sit down, and Abed doesn’t make any effort to start a conversation, and Troy is beginning to feel increasingly awkward, so he clears his throat and makes an attempt himself.

“Do you, uh, come here often?” Troy asks, cringing at how cliche that is, how high pitched and fake his voice sounds. He sends up a quick prayer that Abed isn’t judging him too harshly, that this doesn’t end before it can even begin.

“Sometimes,” Abed responds, looking out the window. “It’s a good spot for people watching. Helps me draw up character inspiration when I’m stuck.” Abed’s mention of his job seems like an in, like he might be willing to start opening up, and Troy grabs onto it excitedly.

“Oh, yeah! How’s work going? Writing a lot of juicy scripts?” he asks, waggling his eyebrows for emphasis.

“It’s fine,” Abed says quickly, dryly. “We should order our drinks.” He stands up abruptly and turns to look at the menu written above the counter, and Troy may have been gone for close to four years, but he knows Abed well enough to know when he wants to change the subject. He deflates slightly in his seat, then pulls himself together and stands up.

“Yeah, sure. Uh, what do you want? I’ll pay.” He can practically hear his mother cooing halfway across the city about what a _gentleman_ he is for offering to pay.

Abed shakes his head, though. “It’s okay, I’ll pay. Don’t worry about it.”

“Dude,” Troy replies, “it’s fine. I have—” He looks around to make sure no one is listening, then whispers, “— _millions of dollars_. Remember?”

“You’re my guest, it’s my treat. Besides, have you actually obtained those—” He leans in and whispers in a near perfect imitation of Troy, “— _millions of dollars?_ ”

Troy opens and closes his mouth a few times, at a loss for words. “Well,” he says, “not yet, but I—” He cuts himself off as Abed raises his eyebrows pointedly, sighing in defeat. “Fine. I’ll have a macchiato.”

“Okay.” Abed nods, and heads over to the counter to order. Troy sits back down, thinking about what Abed had just said.

_You’re my guest._

Is that all he is to Abed now, a guest? For so long they had been best friends, inseparable, not just _Troy and Abed_ but _TroyandAbed,_ and Troy’s never felt like a guest in Abed’s life before. He’s overthinking it, and he _knows_ he’s overthinking it, but he doesn’t know how to stop.

As he waits for their drinks, he fiddles with his hands on the table, occasionally stealing glances at Abed across the shop. He feels like he’s on an awkward first date, and he realizes he probably _looks_ like he’s on an awkward first date, and that realization makes him feel... _something,_ something that he’s entirely unprepared to unpack right now. He’s so caught up in trying not to think about that that he doesn’t notice Abed come back with their drinks, and he practically jumps out of his seat when his macchiato is placed on the table in front of him.

“Are you okay?” Abed asks, furrowing his brow as he sits down.

“Yeah,” Troy replies sheepishly, running a hand down his face. “Sorry, I just. Didn’t notice you walk up. You startled me.” Abed looks slightly skeptical, but he doesn’t push. Instead, he blows on his drink and takes a sip. “What did you get?”

“Just black coffee.” He inhales deeply and sighs. “I’ve learned to appreciate it in the past few years. This place has the best coffee I’ve found in the city.”

Troy actually knows quite a bit about coffee, he’s learned a lot from his trip, and he files that away in his mind as a potential conversational topic for the future. He’s still feeling almost unbearably awkward, though, so he decides to make an attempt to lighten the mood.

“Well,” he says, smiling slightly, “I guess you’d better hope the manager likes _Die Hard_.”

At that, Abed finally, _finally_ cracks a smile, a _real_ smile, and it’s…Troy has seen the 7 wonders of the modern world, but none of them hold a candle to seeing Abed smile. “Yeah,” he says, “I guess so.” It’s a small thing, but it gives Troy hope, like maybe there isn’t an ocean between them after all. Maybe it’s just a lake. Or a really big pond. Or something.

“So,” Abed continues, catching Troy off guard. “What was it you wanted to say?”

“Huh?”

“Back at my apartment. You said you had something to tell me. What was it?”

Troy’s smile fades as he realizes what Abed’s talking about, as he remembers Aisha. “Oh, it’s nothing,” he mumbles, staring down at his drink and feeling his stomach sink further and further into his abdomen. “It’s not important. I...I’ll tell you later.”

“Okay,” Abed replies simply. Then, after taking another sip of his coffee, “There’s a new _Star Trek_.” Troy perks up at that, grateful for the change of subject.

“Oh. Uh, show or movie?”

“Both, actually. _Beyond_ was good, it’s definitely the best of the reboot movies so far. _Discovery_ is alright, it gets a lot of unjust criticism but it’s nothing to write home about either.” He launches into an explanation of the specific successes and shortcomings of each, and Troy realizes that this is the most he’s heard Abed say to him in _years_.

It’s not exactly the kind of conversation that Troy had been hoping or expecting to have, but he’s certainly not going to complain. He’s always genuinely enjoyed hearing Abed’s opinions about things, and he’s never understood why everyone else seems to get annoyed by it. Abed has this way of explaining things that can make even the most boring subject sound absolutely _fascinating_ —honestly, he could probably be reading the phone book and Troy would still be totally enraptured. Actually, Abed has the kind of voice that Troy’s always thought would be perfect for reading bedtime stories, and—okay, he’s getting way off track here.

They talk for a while longer about _Star Trek,_ and it’s pleasant, if slightly stilted and formal, and Troy is genuinely enjoying himself. He checks his watch and sees that it’s already almost 1:30, though, and he doesn’t want this to be the only thing they talk about today.

“Abed,” he interrupts finally, “this is really cool, and I definitely want to catch up about all of the movies and shows and video games and comic books I missed, but I kind of wanted to talk about _you_. You know, what you’ve been up to, how things have been going, that sort of thing.”

“Oh,” Abed says, leaning back in his chair. Troy can see him shaking slightly, knows that it means he’s bouncing his leg under the table. “Why?”

“ _Why?_ ” Troy repeats. “What—because I want to know! Because I’ve been gone for three and a half years, and I feel like you’ve barely said two words to me since I left. Because I _missed_ you, and I...I care about you, man.” By the time he finishes, he’s practically pleading. Abed stares at him for several seconds, processing, then checks his watch and pulls out his wallet. He leaves a couple of bills on the table and stands up, glancing between Troy and the door.

“I’m not prepared to have this conversation right now,” he says bluntly, “and I have to call into work for a meeting in half an hour.” Troy sighs and nods in acknowledgement. He had been half expecting this—Abed’s never been a fan of overly personal or emotional conversations, and Troy isn’t surprised to see that that hasn’t changed. Abed’s gaze softens slightly, though, and he adds, “Maybe tomorrow? I’m off all day. We could go to the beach. I have some things to talk to you about too. I just have to...figure out how to say them.” He looks genuinely apologetic, and Troy smiles.

“Of course, man. No problem. I’ll, uh, I’ll text you.”

“Cool,” Abed replies, his mouth quirking up almost imperceptibly. “Cool cool cool.”

With that, he leaves the café, and Troy feels a wash of emotions as he calls an Uber to take him back to the apartment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter was actually going to be longer, but i decided to reformat some things/change the order of events slightly so this seemed like a more natural conclusion for the time being. no promises for when the next chapter will be posted, but hopefully it won't be over a month this time. lmao


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> troy talks to his mom and to annie about his meeting with abed.

When he gets back to the apartment, he finds his mom sitting on the couch, reading a book. She puts it down as soon as he walks in, though, and he can tell that she’s been waiting for him.

“So?” She crosses her arms, eyeing him expectantly. “How’d it go?”

“It was…” Troy begins, quickly realizing that he’s not sure how to finish. “I don’t know.” He knows there’s no use lying to his mom, that she’d see right through him if he did. Sometimes he swears she has superpowers, some kind of built-in lie detector that she’s always kept secret from him. Maybe that’s just how moms are, though. He’ll have to ask sometime.

“Oh, honey,” she whispers sadly, opening up her arms to him. He crosses to the couch and folds up against her side, feeling like a little kid again as she rubs small circles into his back. He can’t remember the last time she held him like this—it must have been years ago, before the divorce and the custody battle that resulted in Troy living with his dad, only allowed to see her one weekend a month.

“I thought he’d want to see me,” he hears himself saying. “I thought it would be like before. God, I was so _stupid_.”

He feels tears beginning to form at the corners of his eyes, and his mom lets out a soft hum as she moves her hand from his back to his hair. “I know you want everything to be the way it was, sweetheart. But the truth is, people change. You’ve changed since you left, haven’t you?” He nods into her side. “So it wouldn’t be very fair to assume that he hasn’t, would it?”

She’s right, and he knows she’s right. She’s always had this way of pointing out what he already knows, of making him confront the hard truths that he’s been avoiding. He sighs and nods again, shifting so that he’s sitting up next to her on the couch. She smiles at him, gently wiping at one of his eyes with her thumb.

“Change doesn’t have to be a bad thing, though,” she continues. “You just have to try to find your way back to each other. But—” her smile falters, and her eyes grow sadder. “You also need to know when to let go.”

Troy startles at that. “What?”

His mom sighs and takes his hand. “I know how much he means to you, Troy. And I know that you’d do anything to get back to where you were. But I want you to be careful, because as much as you want that, there’s a chance that he doesn’t. You care too much, you get that from me, and when that’s the case it is very easy to throw away your life for someone who doesn’t care about you. So please, promise me that if it comes down to that, you’ll let him go. I don’t want you to make the same mistakes I did. You deserve better than that.”

By the time she finishes, Troy can see tears beginning to form in her own eyes, and he squeezes her hand. He hates to see her like this, hates to know that she feels like she wasted her best years on his dad. He knows that she’s coming from a place of pain and regret, and he understands her concern, but Abed isn’t Troy’s dad. He’s _Abed_. He would never hurt Troy.

Would he?

He thinks about how much he’d removed himself from Troy’s life while Troy was gone, how little information he’d volunteered about himself. How distant he’d felt even that afternoon, even with the two of them back together after so long apart. Maybe...maybe his mom is right. He had been so ready to throw himself headfirst back into whatever Abed wanted, whatever the cost. He needs to be more careful.

“I promise,” he answers finally, and his mom squeezes his hand back tightly.

“Thank you,” she whispers. She takes a deep breath and clears her throat, clearly changing gears. “I was going to go check out the boardwalk, if you’d like to come along.”

“No thanks,” he says. “I think I’d just like to stay here for a while. And I promised I’d call Annie, so…” He smiles at her. “Don’t have too much fun without me.”

She stands up, scoffing as she grabs her book and puts it on the end table next to the couch. “I’ll have as much fun as I damn well please,” she mutters teasingly, moving to her bedroom to grab her purse. She looks back at Troy as she reaches the door, her expression softening. “I love you, honey.”

“I know, Mom,” Troy replies. And then, because he knows she’ll kill him if he doesn’t say it back, “I love you too.”

She closes the door behind her, and Troy lets his head fall back onto the couch. He really does need to call Annie, he’d promised he would, and he figures there’s no point in putting it off. If he does, he’ll just end up dreading it until he gets it done anyway. He pulls out her phone and brings up her contact, ignoring the headache beginning to form behind his eyes as he hits the call button.

He realizes as soon as he calls that he probably should have texted first to make sure it’s a good time, but he’s not going to hang up now. If she’s busy, she’ll probably just let it go to voicemail and then call back later. It turns out he doesn’t have to worry about that, though, because she picks up on the third ring.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Annie,” he says. “I hope this isn’t a bad time, I can call back later if—“

“No, your timing is perfect,” she interrupts. “I just started my break, I have like half an hour to kill.”

“Oh, okay. Cool.” Troy feels his stomach sink a little, and realizes that part of him was hoping that she’d be busy, that he wouldn’t have to relive everything that just happened with Abed. He’s barely even had time to process it himself.

“So?” Annie continues. “Did you talk to him?”

“Yeah,” Troy replies, and he can tell he’s not doing a very good job of hiding the disappointment in his voice.

“How was it?” she asks cautiously.

“I don’t know.” Troy sighs. He’s starting to feel like a broken record, but it’s the truth. “Maybe it’s kind of selfish, but I was kind of expecting him to be a little happier to see me. It was like he barely knew me.”

“Oh, Troy,” Annie says sympathetically. “I was worried about that.”

“What?” Troy asks, confused. “You were…were you _expecting_ this? Why didn’t you tell me? What did I _do?_ "

He hears her hum sadly on the other end of the line. “Look, I don’t want to say too much, because it probably isn’t really my place to be telling you this at all, but Abed…he had a pretty hard time after you left.”

Troy’s stomach sinks.

“But when...the lava,” he stammers. “I...we cloned him. He said he was ready.” He knows he’s grasping at straws, but he doesn’t want to face what Annie’s really saying. He worries at his lip, biting off a chunk of skin. “I never meant to hurt him.”

“I know, Troy,” Annie says sympathetically. But I mean...look at it from his perspective. You guys were best friends, you did everything together, and then one day you just...left. And I know why you did, and I don’t blame you, but in his mind, I think he felt like he was being abandoned. He kind of...shut down for a while afterward. He wouldn’t talk to any of us, he barely left the blanket fort. It was honestly kind of scary. And then everything with the pirates...for a bit, it started to seem like you might not make it out, and we all thought that would just make everything worse, but I think something inside of him...shifted when he found out. I think he realized that there was no way of knowing when or—or _if_ —you were coming back, and that he couldn’t spend his whole life waiting for you. And I think that he thought that the only way to keep going was to—” She pauses, and he can practically see the look of pity on her face. “Get over you,” she finishes gently.

Troy takes a minute to process everything Annie’s just said, and he finds himself getting unexpectedly angry. “Oh, so he doesn’t want anything to do with me, and it’s somehow my fault? Yeah, that’s fair.” He spits it out bitterly, and immediately regrets taking out his frustration on Annie.

“Hey,” she retorts defensively. “I didn’t say he was _right_. I’m just saying that’s what he _thinks_.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” His headache is only getting worse, and he massages at his aching temples. “I just hate thinking that I somehow hurt him, even by accident.”

“Well,” Annie says, “maybe you should tell _him_ that.”

“Yeah,” he sighs. “You’re right. I’m gonna see him again tomorrow. I, um, I think we both have a lot we need to say.”

“He still cares about you, Troy. I know he does.”

“Thanks, Annie.” He feels the corner of his mouth tick up. Talking to her has always helped him feel better about things. “I love you. I mean it.”

“I know,” she replies, and he can hear the smile in her voice. “I’m really glad you’re back, Troy.”

“Me too.”

They chat lightly for several more minutes until Annie has to get back to work, and by the time he hangs up he’s feeling significantly lighter than before. Part of it, he thinks, is that he’s finally beginning to come to terms with the fact that not everything is the same as the way he left it. His mom was right; he’s changed, and Abed’s changed too.

Even so, though, he refuses to accept that Abed has changed so much that he has no room in his life for Troy anymore. Maybe it’ll be different, maybe it won’t be quite what he was expecting, but it’ll be _something_. He has to at least _try_. Besides, Annie had seemed so sure that Abed still cares about him, and when has he ever known her to be wrong?

He really hopes she’s right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello friends, sorry that this chapter is so short and that it's taken so long for me to update. i've been somewhat caught up in running the abedlookingattroy blog on tumblr (always be plugging), and also i'm just kind of lazy, so sorry about that. i have most of the next chapter outlined already and am excited to write it, so hopefully it'll be up a little sooner--no promises though.
> 
> as always, thank you so much for all your kindness and support <3


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> troy and abed talk! about their feelings! communication!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have no excuse for how long this took. sorry about that :(

When he wakes up the next day, he has a single text from Abed.

>>Meet me at my apartment at 3?

He checks the time to see that it’s 11:30 (so he slept in a little. He’s tired, he’s still jet lagged—boat lagged?—he deserves it), so he still has a couple of hours to eat lunch and get ready before he heads over there. He spends about five minutes typing and retyping a reply, trying to walk the line between casually friendly and cautiously formal.

>>sounds good. see you then!

He debates for a moment whether the exclamation point is too much, but then he figures there’s not much point in worrying about it since he’s already sent it. He throws his phone back on the bed and tries to rub the sleep out of his eyes, walking to the kitchen to figure out something for lunch.

There’s a note from his mom stuck to the fridge, and he’s reminded of being a kid and getting home from school while his mom was still at work, finding instructions for heating the oven and getting out all the ingredients for dinner so they were ready to be prepared when she got home. He smiles fondly as he reads it.

_Hi Troy—_  
Ran out to grab a few things, should be back by 1 or so. I did buy some groceries before you docked, so feel free to make yourself a sandwich with whatever’s there.  
Love, Mom 

She’s signed it with a little heart and a smiley face, and Troy feels a wave of affection wash over him, along with a pang of guilt—he’s missed being close with her like this, and he regrets not really reaching out to her for all these years. Sure, the divorce had been hard for everybody, but that doesn’t excuse his not even trying for so long. He’s determined to do better, to make sure he reminds her more often how much he loves her.

He throws together a sandwich with what he finds in the fridge, scarfing it down and rinsing the plate to put in the dishwasher. By the time he’s getting ready to get in the shower, he hears his mom come in, and he pokes his head out of the bathroom to say hello and thank her for stocking the kitchen.

He showers as quickly as possible (he’d washed his hair the day before, so it doesn’t take him very long), so that he has plenty of time to agonize over what to wear. He ends up in a pair of dark shorts and Birkenstocks paired with another floral print short-sleeved shirt, which he feels toes the line nicely between worldly and pretentious. He buttons up the shirt, then thinks better of it and undoes the buttons. He feels too exposed like that, though (and maybe also a little too suggestive), so he does the bottom few buttons back up as a compromise to himself.

He checks his phone and is surprised to see that it’s only 1:45—he still has plenty of time before he has to leave, so he digs a small pair of scissors and his electric razor out of one of his suitcases and heads back into the bathroom. 

Once he’s satisfied with the amount of stubble left, he stares at his reflection in the mirror, trying to reconcile the man in front of him with the one that left Colorado three and a half years ago. It’s weird to really look at himself this way, he hardly feels like the same person. _People change,_ he reminds himself. _And that’s okay._ He washes his face and gives his reflection one final glance before leaving the bathroom, checking the time again to make sure he’s not running late.

He decides to call an Uber at 2:15, partially because he wants to make sure he doesn't show up late and partially because he can’t stand waiting around anymore. That ends up being a mistake, though, because traffic is surprisingly light, and he ends up pulling up to Abed’s building at 2:40. He debates just waiting on the sidewalk for twenty minutes, but he’s already starting to sweat, and he doesn’t want to be all gross by the time Abed actually sees him, so he decides to go ahead in anyway. He gets buzzed into the building and heads up the stairs, walking down the hallway to where he remembers Abed’s apartment is. Abed answers the door as soon as he knocks, giving him the same onceover he had the day before. His gaze lingers for a moment on Troy’s stubble, on his mouth, and Troy tries really hard not to read too much into it.

“You’re early.”

“Yeah, sorry,” he apologizes, wringing his hands self-consciously. “I guess the traffic wasn’t as bad as I was expecting.”

Abed considers for a moment before nodding. “That’s okay. I was just about to shower, it shouldn’t take too long. You can come in to wait if you want.” He gestures into the apartment, already heading back inside. He seems friendlier today, if still weirdly impersonal, which Troy counts as an improvement.

“Uh, yeah,” Troy responds, probably a little too quickly. “Sure.” He hasn’t seen Abed’s apartment yet, and the invitation to come inside feels like a big deal. He follows Abed into the space, closing the door behind him.

When he gets a good look around, he feels some of his tension ease. It’s different from their apartment back in Colorado, smaller, definitely more grown up, but it’s still undeniably Abed—he still has movie posters up everywhere, and his DVD collection sits proudly in the living room. There are a few framed photos scattered around, hanging on the walls and propped on side tables, but from what Troy can see they’re mostly of Abed and Aisha. He doesn’t see himself in any of them, and he tries not to be too hurt. He had taken a few of the pictures of him and Abed on his trip, had put them up in his cabin on the boat where they would be the last thing he saw before going to sleep and the first thing he saw when he woke up, and at the time he had sort of assumed that Abed would have done the same. He was obviously wrong, though. It seems like he was wrong about a lot of things.

Abed leads him into the living room, where a couch sits in front of a large TV. Aisha is perched on the armrest of the couch, looking at something on her phone. She looks up and gives Troy a good-natured smile, which he does his best to return.

“You can sit down,” Abed says, and Troy doesn’t want to be rude, but he hadn’t exactly prepared himself to be alone with Abed’s _girlfriend_ for any amount of time. Before he can make any sort of objection, though, Abed leaves the room, and Troy resigns himself to his fate.

He gives Aisha another halfhearted smile and lets out a nervous chuckle, doing his best to seat himself far enough away that he’s not weirdly close to her but not so far away that she feels like he’s trying to avoid her. He takes out his phone to check his notifications just so he has something to do, but then he realizes that that might be rude with Aisha sitting right there, and he feels like they’re supposed to be talking or something right now but he has no clue what to say. He glances over at her and she’s put her phone away and is looking intently at him, clearly scrutinizing him, but not making any move to start a conversation either. Eye contact with her is almost too much to bear, so he occupies himself with glancing around the room, taking in the details of the apartment.

“So,” she says after a long silence. “You’re the famous Troy.”

“Uh, yeah,” he replies sheepishly. “I guess Abed’s mentioned me?”

“ _Mentioned_ you?” She snorts. “Dude, he never shuts up about you.”

That takes Troy by surprise. “Wait, really?”

“Oh, yeah,” she laughs. “The stories I’ve heard about Greendale Community College...they can’t _all_ be true, right? I mean, he's _gotta_ be pulling my leg sometimes.”

Troy chuckles, suddenly feeling much more relaxed. “You’d be surprised.” He pauses, self-conscious as he actually processes what she’d said before. “He really talks about me? Like, a lot?”

Aisha's demeanor changes, seeming to realize what a sensitive subject it is for Troy. “He does. You’re, like, the main character in all of his favorite stories. Honestly, I’ve never seen him smile like that except when he’s talking about you. It’s clear that you guys had something special.”

Troy smiles sadly at that, letting out a quiet hum of affirmation. _Could have fooled me,_ he thinks. _If he cares that much, why doesn’t he show it to_ me?

“Hey,” Aisha says, lifting her foot onto the couch’s armrest and hugging her knee, “I know that whatever goes on between you guys is your business, and it totally isn’t my place to ask, so feel free to just tell me to go to hell or whatever, but...what happened between you two?”

Troy’s taken aback by the bluntness of the question, not quite sure how to answer, and Aisha continues.

“The way he talks about you—it’s obvious that he cares about you a lot, don’t get me wrong—but he also gets kind of...sad, sometimes, you know? From what I understand, it seems like you guys didn’t exactly part on the best of terms.”

Troy sighs and drops his head down toward his hands, picking at his cuticles. “Yeah, I mean...it all happened really fast, I guess. Like, all of a sudden I had this amazing opportunity to do something I thought that I really needed to do, but I think Abed felt like I was leaving him behind, and then the next thing I knew I was getting on a boat, and I feel like we didn’t really get a chance to actually talk about things or really even say goodbye, and it just...I don’t know. I don’t think it was a mistake to go, but I wish we could have worked it out before I left, I guess. I feel like things would have been different.” He realizes that he's just been rambling to a virtual stranger, and he scrubs his hand across his face, embarrassed. “Sorry, that was kind of a lot.”

He looks back up at her, still hugging her leg, watching him with a softly scrutinizing expression. “I don’t think it’s very productive to get caught up in the what ifs,” she muses. “Maybe it would've worked out differently, maybe it wouldn’t have. You both made the choices you made, and this is how it’s worked out.” She tilts her head slightly, her eyes softening. “But it’s not over yet, you know. You’re here, and he’s here, so, you know, do with that what you will.” She leans in conspiratorially, an easy smile creeping its way onto her face. “And for the record, I know I just met you, but you seem pretty cool. I wouldn’t mind you sticking around.” She gestures to the closed door of the bathroom, dropping her voice to a whisper. “And I don’t think he would, either.”

Troy’s surprisingly touched, and he’s about to respond when Abed emerges from the bathroom. He’s wearing a tee shirt that Troy recognizes from their time at Greendale but which is now significantly tighter than Troy remembers it being and shows off his muscles very nicely (and part of Troy’s brain is very hung up on the _muscles_ part), along with board shorts and a pair of battered sneakers. His hair is damp and curling around his ears, and Troy is entirely unprepared for how mind-bogglingly _good_ he looks. It’s the most skin he’s seen Abed show...probably ever, and the LA summer has clearly been kind to him, he’s tanned a deep shade of brown and is practically glowing, even in the dim light of the apartment. He steps toward Troy and he even _smells_ amazing, whatever deodorant or aftershave or cologne he’s using is _really_ doing the trick, and Troy makes a mental note to let him know that later (that wouldn’t be too weird, would it? That’s the sort of thing that friends say to each other, right? Even awkwardly estranged best friends? He’s definitely overthinking this again).

“Are you ready to go?” he asks, and it takes Troy probably a full ten seconds to register that Abed is talking to _him_ and that he needs to reboot his brain so that he can form a coherent answer.

“Uh, yeah,” he says, blinking. “Lead the way.”

Abed nods, heading for the door. Aisha raises her eyebrows toward him and winks at Troy before picking up her phone innocently, and Troy follows Abed out of the apartment.

Abed’s apartment proves to be relatively close to the water, and after a bit of a walk they find themselves down at the boardwalk, just as Abed had promised. They spend the afternoon browsing around different shops and vendors’ carts, and Troy lets Abed continue where he had left off in telling him about all of the movies and TV he’d missed that he needs to catch up on. He knows that Abed is trying to psych himself up for a more personal conversation, that they’ll get to the things they really need to say later, because Abed had promised, and he’s never broken a promise to Troy. _Friends don’t lie,_ he reminds himself. _And we’re still friends._

_Right?_

For dinner, Abed takes him to a small, out of the way Palestinian restaurant with a sign boasting the best falafel on the West Coast. Abed tells him with a small, slightly sad smile that this place reminds him of home, and that he comes here when he’s missing his dad. Troy’s touched that Abed would bring him here, would confide in him like that, and he insists on paying for their meal, citing that Abed had paid yesterday, so it’s only fair that this meal is his treat.

The falafel is excellent, as expected (Abed certainly knows his way around these things), and he also finds himself thinking about Mr. Nadir’s restaurant and everything (and everyone) else back in Greendale. He’ll have to call Jeff soon, see how he and the others who stayed are doing, and possibly schedule a visit back there soon. He hasn’t been there in years, after all. And, speaking of Jeff—

“Oh!” he blurts out, and Abed looks at him quizzically. “Britta says hi,” he says, now slightly embarrassed by the outburst. “I talked to her the other day, and she told me to tell you. Sorry, I just remembered.”

“Okay,” Abed replies, unfazed. “Tell her I said hi back.”

“Uh, will do,” Troy laughs awkwardly, and they finish their meal in relative silence.

By the time they leave the restaurant, the sun is beginning to set. They stop at a small ice cream shop for dessert (Abed gets a sorbet, citing the fact that he didn’t bring along any Lactaid, and Troy can’t help but smile at the familiarity of the admission), and Troy is excited to see that they have glass bottles of Coke behind the counter—he hasn’t had a _real_ bottle of Coke since he left Colorado, because the stuff they sell in other countries just isn’t as good. He tells Abed as much as they head towards the water, sitting down side by side on a relatively empty part of the beach and facing the ocean. Abed raises his eyebrows, clearly skeptical, but Troy doubles down.

“I swear, dude, it’s true. If you go to, like, Spain or whatever, it just isn’t the same. I can take you sometime, and then you can see for your—”

He stops abruptly when he realizes what he’s saying, what he’s suggesting, and mentally kicks himself. He’s definitely coming on way too strong, Abed is going to think he’s desperate. Which he is, but Abed doesn’t need to know that. _This is pathetic,_ he thinks, _get it together_.

Abed doesn’t show any immediate reaction, though, just looks at Troy with the thoughtful, slightly confused look that seems to have been plastered on him since Troy got back. “Why are you doing this?” he asks quietly.

“Uh,” Troy responds, caught off guard and more than a little confused by the question. “Doing what?”

“You’re trying so hard to be my friend.” He furrows his brow. “Why?”

That hits Troy like a punch to the gut. It’s not malicious, or accusatory, or angry, just a simple statement of fact and expression of curiosity, and somehow that hurts even more. His heart sinks with the weight of the question, and he hears his mom's voice echo in his mind.

_As much as you want that, there's a chance that he doesn't._

_Promise me that if it comes down to that, you'll let him go._

“Why wouldn’t I?” he asks, pleading. He wills his voice not to break, because crying in front of Abed right now would probably make everything worse, not to mention the fact that it would also be supremely embarrassing. “You’re my best friend. You always have been.”

“But…” Abed says, clearly struggling for words. “You left.” There’s the slightest quiver to his voice, which Troy knows means he’s trying really, really hard to stay in control. It’s always been hard to see him like this, but it’s even harder knowing that it’s Troy’s own fault. He sighs deeply.

He knows that Abed feels betrayed by Troy leaving, that he has his own hangups about being abandoned, but he can’t help but feel that Abed is being a little unfair with all this. After all, wasn’t Abed the one who would constantly go off on little side adventures, without Troy? He had always been allowed to have his own life, he still is—he seems to have gotten on perfectly well these past few years, so why isn’t Troy allowed to do the same? It’s not like he was never going to come back, there was never a doubt in his mind that that was what he was going to do.

He doesn’t want to say all of this to Abed, though, especially not now, because he’s clearly still hurting and Troy knows that he could have handled the whole leaving situation better than he did.

“I know, buddy,” he says, choosing his words carefully. He really doesn’t want to fuck this up even more. “I did, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I hurt you, that you felt like I was abandoning you. But I came back, right? I’m here, now, and I _really_ don’t want to lose you.”

“I think we have a lot to work through. I don’t know if I can just forgive you. But…” He pauses, looks into Troy’s eyes. “I don’t want to lose you either.”

With those seven words, Troy feels an immense weight lift from his chest. He can’t help the tears that begin to fall from his eyes, his whole body shaking with relief. Abed furrows his brow, clearly taken aback by the sudden display of emotion.

“Are you okay?” He asks, his voice a mix of confusion and concern. Years ago, he would have laid a gentle, comforting hand on Troy’s shoulder. Now, though, he keeps his distance, keeping his arms held tightly around his knees. Troy doesn’t want to think about everything that’s changed right now, though, he just wants to focus on coming home and _I don’t want to lose you either_ and fixing what’s been broken.

“Yeah,” Troy sniffles, wiping at his eyes. “Sorry. I just...I was so scared that you wouldn’t want anything to do with me.”

Abed hums softly and nods his head stiffly, looking back down at the sand. Troy can see his grip around his knees tighten and his leg start to bounce, and he knows that Abed is becoming emotionally overwhelmed by the conversation and is about to change the subject. He’s okay with that, though, because at least now they’ve started somewhere. Abed can take as long as he wants—Troy isn’t going anywhere.

When Abed looks back up, it’s obvious that he’s put his shields up. “You always apologize for crying,” he notes. “Why?”

“I don’t know, man,” Troy sighs. He’s already been painfully honest with Abed, so he figures he might as well not stop now. “I mean, I’ve always been kind of embarrassed about how emotional I am, and I thought that this trip was supposed to, you know, make me a man or whatever. And that once I was a man, maybe I’d stop crying so much.”

“But you didn’t,” Abed finishes softly. Troy lets out an exasperated huff, nodding wordlessly. As if to demonstrate his point, he feels his eyes start to well with tears again. _I thought coming home was supposed to make me happy,_ he thinks, _so why do I keep fucking crying?_

He wants to explain himself further, but he doesn’t have the words. If he’s being honest, he’s not sure if he ever will. He looks around at the quickly darkening beach, though, then back at Abed, and realizes that this whole situation feels familiar, and that maybe he doesn’t need to.

“Shit,” he breathes out as he drops his head back down toward his lap, to where he’s letting a handful of sand run through his fingers. “I cry so much, sometimes—” He swallows, praying that Abed will get the reference (of course he’ll get it, he has to get it—this is _Abed,_ after all, and he can’t have changed _that_ much, right?). “Sometimes I feel like I’m gonna just turn into drops.”

Abed’s eyes widen at that. “ _Moonlight,_ ” he whispers, almost reverently. He points at Troy. “You saw it?”

“Of course I did,” Troy laughs. “I’m—”

He cuts himself off just in time. He doesn’t want to just blurt it out, but he realizes that this conversation might be the perfect transition to something else he needs to say. “Um, that’s actually sort of what I wanted to talk to you about. You know, the thing I mentioned before?”

“Okay,” Abed says cautiously, gesturing for him to continue.

“Okay,” Troy repeats. “So, being on a boat for four years with only LeVar Burton for company did give me time to do a lot of thinking. And it helped me…realize some things.”

Abed quirks an eyebrow. “Anything good?”

“Well,” Troy swallows. “Dating Britta was a huge mistake.” Abed lets out a chuckle at that, which is a good sign. Maybe it’ll make this next part easier. “And I think…” He closes his eyes. He’s practiced this a million times to himself in the mirror, to LeVar, to strangers in every country he visited after he realized it. None of those compare to this, now, though, because none of those people’s opinions of him mattered half as much as Abed’s. He wants to be honest, though, because friends don’t lie, and he doesn’t want to feel like he’s hiding anything. He opens his eyes and takes a deep breath, just like he'd practiced. “I think I’m gay.”

Abed nods slowly, considering that. After several seconds, he looks back up at Troy. “I know.”

“You...what?” Troy splutters. This definitely isn’t how he pictured this conversation going. This was supposed to be a big reveal, a moment of deeply personal emotional vulnerability, and Abed is kind of harshing his groove.

“I’ve known since freshman year.” He tilts his head, studying Troy. “I thought that you knew, too. If I’d known you didn’t, I would have told you.”

“What?” Troy repeats incredulously, near hysterical at this point. “But you…I…I dated Britta!”

“I assumed she was your beard. I think _she_ kind of assumed she was. And this is _Britta_ we’re talking about.”

Troy doesn’t have anything to say to that, so he just keeps mouthing wordlessly.

Abed looks at him intently. “You really didn’t know,” he says softly.

“No,” Troy says, straining to keep his voice calm. “I didn’t. Did everyone know except me?”

“It seems like it,” Abed replies, and he at least has the decency to look sheepish.

The conversation lulls into silence after that, and Troy takes a sip of his Coke, more out of the need to do something with his hands than anything else.

“I’m bisexual,” Abed says, apropos of nothing, and Troy chokes on his soda.

“Uh,” he coughs out, trying to get his breathing under control. “What?”

“Well, you just came out to me,” he states matter-of-factly, gesturing between the two of them. “It seemed appropriate.”

If Abed were a stranger (or anyone other than Abed, really), Troy might assume that he was coming on to him, but that doesn’t make any sense—Abed has a girlfriend, and they seem very happy together, and right now he seems hesitant to call troy his _friend,_ let alone anything more than that. _Just wishful thinking,_ his brain supplies, and, not for the first time, he tells it to shut up.

“Okay,” he responds, fiddling with his soda bottle. “Cool.” He knows that sounds really lame, but he really does mean it, and he’s not sure how else to respond. “I guess we’re in the same club then, huh?” He knows it’s a long shot, but he figures it’s worth a try, so he raises his left hand up to his chest, reaching his right hand hesitantly toward Abed, inviting. Abed shakes his head microscopically, though, tensing up.

“I don’t think things can just go back to the way they were, Troy,” he says flatly, staring at the ground. He almost looks like he’s psyching himself up for an argument. “I want them to too, but I don’t think that’s how this works.”

Troy lets out a breath and nods, lowering his arms in concession. “You’re right,” he says, and Abed looks up sharply, obviously surprised that Troy is agreeing with him. “It’s been so long, and we’ve both obviously changed, and the way we left things..maybe we can’t get back what we had before. But maybe—” He pauses, trying to channel all of his hope and fear and _love_ into his eyes, to communicate it to Abed. “Maybe we can build something new. Together.”

Abed considers that for several seconds, his eyes darting back and forth as he thinks, Finally, quietly, he answers, “I think I’d like that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> god i hope you guys enjoyed this chapter bc i really enjoyed writing it!! and i hope you like aisha, because she'll be back :~)
> 
> feedback is deeply appreciated, and once again i apologize for the extremely inconsistent update schedule lmao

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! kudos/comments are appreciated more than words can say.
> 
> gay people be writing trobed reunion fics <3


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